1 Scourge the Hedgehog: Free Flames
by Author ReWritten
Summary: Scourge has been beaten and broken one too many times. He is offered a second chance by seven young women, who transport him to another planet. But to keep the life he has been offered, he has to follow all the rules.. And Scourge is a rule-breaker. But he is developing new abilities, strange abilities that increase the pressure. Plus a girl's making eyes at him. T for mild swears.
1. Prologue

Scourge the Hedgehog sat by himself as always. His shoulders were hunched and he ate the slush they called food as cautiously as if every bite contained a bomb. His eyes darted around nervously, checking every nook and cranny for an enemy, for his enemies were plentiful. Every prisoner in the Zone Jail now wanted to kick his sorry little stump of a tail all the way to DownUnda. And, to be truthful? He deserved it.

He'd broken out from ZJ once before. He'd had the taste of freedom every prisoner longed for, would kill for. But he was stupid enough to get himself thrown back in jail. Added to that, he'd thoroughly kicked everyone's rears when he broke out, whether they deserved it or not.

Scourge raised his eyes to meet the watery blues of Al and Cal, who were sitting a few tables away. They averted their eyes and resumed their quiet conversation. Once they'd sucked up to him, acting like they wanted to replace his shadow. Now, they avoided him. He had left them to suffer, left them searching for the bright side. They had no bright side because of him.

Did he feel guilty about it? Yes. Somewhere deep down, tucked away in his black soul, there was a spark of remorse. That spark yearned for him to bring his tray over to the worms, talk to them like nothing had happened. But that spark was what had gotten him into trouble in the first place.

Unbidden, the image of a reddish-brown vixen popped into his mind and blew him a sarcastic kiss. _Fiona._ She and the Destructix, her gang, had broken him out of prison, offered him the power he'd lost. He remembered the fight they'd had, the one directly after his breakout. She had wanted to go back to Doc F, while he'd wanted to cook up another scheme to take over. He'd left in disgust, stormed off into the forest. Then he'd heard the sirens.

Fiona had tipped him off to the cops. She was more of a traitor than he'd formerly thought. Sure, she'd betrayed the Freedom Fighters, and yeah, she had left him at the fight with the Suppression Squad, but he'd thought she wouldn't dare betray him. He was dead wrong.

Now he was back in ZJ, wearing the orange jumpsuit and with his spines shaved nearly bald. The only difference was that Warden Zobotnik had gotten Zone Genius Zails to create a machine to sap Scourge's strength. Every night before he was led to his cell to sleep, they brought him to the machine, unlocked his collar and threw him in. The awful machine would drain him dry and he would be too weak to even move. The Zone Cops who had brought him there would drag him by his wrists back to his cell. He would go to sleep exhausted and wake up with no improvement. His greatest fear was that one day he'd wake up and he wouldn't be able to move at all.

"Scourge." The drone was easily recognizable as a voice muffled by the Zone Cop visor. Two of the Zoners towered over him, one tall and muscled, the other small and slight. They were the usual duo; a dog named Zampson, and a blue jay called Zorty.

He put the last spoonful of mush in his mouth with some reluctance; anything he ate would inevitably come back up when the machine began to drink his strength. When he stood, Zorty clamped an iron-gloved fist around his left wrist, Zampson around his right. All eyes were fixated on the Zone Cops, as usual. They led him out of the cafeteria and Scourge looked over his shoulder. Everyone had gone back to their meals, like he'd never existed.

He was walked down the long halls, past empty cells with their electric bars sizzling, past groups of Zoners chatting, towards a tall door marked Laboratory. Each step was weighted down with lead and his feet began to drag. The Zoners merely quickened their pace, shoving him through the door to land at the high-heeled boots of Warden Zobotnik. The warden's glasses glinted in the bluish glow from the chamber, making him look even more sinister than normal. "Evening, Scourge. Ready?"

"No," he answered quietly, looking away.

"Ah well, your opinion doesn't matter." The warden smiled, and made a gesture to Zails. The fox straightened his lab coat, which was covered in colorful stains, and ran his gloved fingers through his headfur, which stuck up even more.

"Zorty, Zampson." The Zone Cops knew the routine by now and tossed the hedgehog into the chamber. He landed on all fours, making no move to get up. In approximately half an hour, he would be hauled out again, covered in his own vomit and unable to move. Why prolong it?

The hum of the machine started and Scourge curled into a ball at the bottom of the glass cylinder, closing his eyes in a futile attempt to pretend this wasn't happening.

**Alrighty, guys. I'm rewriting all the Call to Arms books. It will be a little sadder, a little darker. But, I hope you feel for our hedgehog hero and keep reading. The songs will be better, the characters more developed, and the limits will be tested! Also, I figured out what 'not in the public domain' means. Definition: Works that are copyrighted by others and used without permission.**


	2. Chapter 1

_Blurs of color swirled past him, moving faster and faster than he could ever think possible. As they moved, each struck out at him. A sword sliced his cheek open, an arrow whistled through his spines. _

_ "Cut it out!" he cried, finding himself caged in by this ever-spinning tornado._

_ "Fight back!" hissed a voice._

_ "Stop being such a coward!" growled another._

_ "Wake up," offered a childish voice._

_ The voices started chanting and moving faster. "Wake up, wake up, wake up…"_

"Wake up, hedgehog!" Scourge opened his eyes and wiped the dried drool off the side of his mouth. He was lying on his side, on the uncovered springs that passed for a mattress. Zorty and Zampson stood at his cell door.

"C'mon, greenie, get up," came Zorty's soft murmur of a voice. The jay was probably the gentler of the two and enjoyed his post escorting Scourge everywhere.

"Up, you scumbag!" laughed Zampson, reaching through the bars to tag him with the taser he carried like a religious object. Scourge stiffened as the electric current ran through him, biting his tongue to keep from yelping. Once it had passed, he stiffly sat up, wincing as his sore and weary muscles complained at the movement. Last night had been the hardest one of all to endure.

Zorty flicked the button at his belt to turn off the electric bars ands stepped into the cell. "C'mon Scourge." Despite his soft voice and slight build, the jay was not to be messed with, and the hand that closed around Scourge's upper arm had a grip like iron. He wrenched the hedgehog upwards, making him gasp in the sudden pain, and set him on his feet.

He willed himself not to waver or fall over, to do so was to increase Zampson's enjoyment and make Zobotnik and Znively, who were always watching, think that they were doing an even better job of breaking him. His ego refused to allow it, so to the Zone Cops' immense disappointment, Scourge walked, or limped, out of his cell. They walked him down to the cafeteria, then left to flirt with the Zoner girls who had volunteered to cook.

"Hey. Hey, you. Yeah, you. Whatcha doin'?" Scourge looked up from the gruel he'd been served to see a Zone Cop with a pale gray muzzle slide into the chair across from him. The shock of someone talking to him besides Zorty, Zampson, and Zobotnik was so great it struck him temporarily dumb.

"Eatin', right? Yeah, so ole Zobotnik, he sez to me 'Ziggy, why don't you go an' talk to the orange suits?' an' I'm like 'Yeah, man, okay,' an' I come in here an' the first priz I see is you! Cool, eh?" Ziggy flipped up his visor and beamed at him, fingers tapping out a rhythm on the table.

"Uhh.." Scourge became aware that his mouth was open, displaying the nearly liquid mush inside, and swallowed. He wasn't sure what to make of this guy.

Ziggy didn't seem to need a reply though, and burst back into spastic conversation. "So I sez to myself 'Zigman, that right there is the most crazy dude of all,' and I replies 'Well, head over there an' see what made him want to escape.' 'Cause ole Captain Zonic told all the Zone Cops that you escaped and wuz stupid enough to get yourself caught again. I'm a reporter for Z-Zone High School and that was the coolest story evah, right? Right?

"No reporter ever covered an escape, so I'mma gonna be the first. Name's Zenglebert, but people call me Ziggy. And you're Scourge the Hedgehog. So, what's your story?" Ziggy fished around in his duffel bag and pulled out a tape recorder, which he then plopped onto the table between them. Looking closer at his helmet, Scourge realized it was made out of cheap plastic and had the label of 'Made in Zhina'. This kid was a Zone Cop wannabe? He opened his mouth to say something and Ziggy eagerly fumbled for the Record button.

"Ziggy, what are you doing here?" A female Zoner had approached the table. She was solidly built with the same gray muzzle as the reporter. His sister maybe? Her hand was on her hip in that bossy manner that Scourge recognized from his days with Alicia.

Ziggy didn't look thrilled to see her and the look was mirrored on her face. "Oh hey, Zangela, how're you?"

"Zig, you're supposed to be in school. Getting an education. Not fraternizing with the prisoners." Definitely his sister. Scourge took another spoonful of his mush, watching this exchange with a slight interest. He hadn't had much experience with siblings, except when he'd seen Alicia and her older brother exchanging curses and obscene gestures a few times.

"Ahem, is there trouble over here?" Zampson had approached the table. Instantly he spotted Ziggy's fake helmet. It must have stood out like a sore thumb. "Ziggy, what are you doing here? How'd you even get in?"

Zangela turned to him. "Zampson, butt out, okay? Ziggy, you're coming with me." She gripped one of her brother's bat ears and towed him away, sparking several yelps of "Ow! Ow! Ow! Ear!"

He watched them go, amusement curling his lips. The sigh from Zampson meant that Ziggy was a regular nuisance here, but Scourge thought the twitchy little reporter amusing. Besides, he spoke to him without fear, which was interesting. Was he brave or just too stupid to realize- To realize what? The green hedgehog sighed and traced a pattern in the gruel with his spoon. Even threatening thoughts had lost their luster.

Zorty approached, looking grim. "Time for him to head to his session," he reported, jerking his head so Zampson would know exactly which him he meant. Scourge pushed his food away, feeling sick to his stomach. The Warden had scheduled weekly visits between him and Zouge ever since the breakout, to try to unlock Scourge's 'hidden feelings.' Scourge hated the visits, hated the feeling that every word he said was being analyzed. It made him feel like Zouge was poking around in his brain and he didn't want _anyone_ in there.

And what exactly did Zobotnik want to do with him once he was 'reformed'? Scourge had the awful image of himself wearing Zone Cop armor and taking orders from Zobotnik with compliant 'yessirs' and 'nosirs.' It made him even sicker.

Despite the bile rising in his throat, he walked with the Cops to Zouge's office and was pushed in. Zorty called out "He's all yours, Zouge!" Then they left.

Zouge's office was always a different color when he came. Right now, it was a soothing shade of ocean blue with white clouds painted on the ceiling. The couch, which was covered in a thick plastic to prevent his quills spearing it, was empty, just waiting for him.

Zouge was sitting on the wall, on one of those swivel-office chairs, clipboard in hand. She was dressed in a lavender suit. "Ah, Scourge," she said, with a smile that was as fake as Miles's toupee. He was pretty sure she hadn't forgiven him yet for the time he'd destroyed her progress with her group after riling up Lightning Lynx.

He said nothing, just stood there and gave her his most hostile of looks. Her smile faltered, to be replaced with a _don't-mess-with-me-cause-I-know-everything_ look. He hated those. "Sit down, Scourge."

Crossing the room, he perched on the edge of the couch, the plastic making loud crackles of protest, and looked at her. She took a deep breath and said with an obviously fake brightness. "So, do you have anything to say?"

"Nothing that you need to hear." This was his favorite way to reply to any question. It used to drive his dad crazy. But Zouge was a different matter.

"Try me," she offered. "People tell me I'm a good listener."

Scourge thought, then buried his face in his hands. "Well, there's this woman."

Zouge leaned forward, eyes bright. "What about her?"

He made a muffled squeak noise and his shoulders shook with contained sobs. "She.. she.. She keeps asking me stupid questions!" A bright smirk cut through his despondent act and he peeked through his hands to see Zouge's reaction.

The therapist scowled. "Don't try my patience, wise guy."

Scourge shrugged. "You should have known not to get your hopes up."

The rest of the hour-long session was uneventful with Scourge just mutely sitting on the couch, while Zouge fired off questions. Finally the bat straightened her jacket and yelled, "Alright, he can go now!" at whoever was standing behind the glass, supervising.

After five more uncomfortable minutes of silence and evil glares, the door slid open and the Zoners came in. The white bat glanced at the Zoners questioningly. "What took you so long?" she snapped.

Zorty shifted. "He has a visitor. Warden Zobotnik had us come to his office to tell us instead of just paging us. It kind of delayed us. Sorry." None of the Zone Cops were all that fond of Zouge, as the last guy who'd made friends with her she'd gotten fired. The feeling was mutual.

Scourge stood and walked out of the room without a backwards glance, sneakers slapping tile. Zouge called after him "We'll pick up where we left off next week." The words were ominous.


End file.
